


human.

by maskros



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, second pov so who you see as captain doesnt rly matter oc all yall want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 22:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maskros/pseuds/maskros
Summary: and sometimes you wished you could confess that things was a bit too hard.





	human.

**Author's Note:**

> step 1) open daughter's artist page  
> step 2) shuffle  
> step 3) title !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> jokes aside, do check out daughter. there's some really good lyrics in there.

Because you are soft and unrelenting, oblivious to how the world works yet stubbornly holding on. You are reckless and naïve, convinced you can save everyone you move on instinct grown from determination alone until there’s a sword to your throat and it’s you who has to be saved. It just goes to show the kindness you hold, the empathy you feel for people in need and selflessness in helping them. It’s not a bad trait — but it’s what you lack for yourself. _If one suffer, we all suffer_ , you say gently and help them up on their feet. They smile and grow, you smile and lock the nightmares away. _It’s what captains do_ , you say to your treasure box. _That’s not true_ , it answers and you pretend not to hear. You leave it in the darkness of the night, alone and cold and hidden, and shine as bright as the sun during the day, loved and warm and in plain sight. It’s easy to forget about your secrets when people are constantly calling your name. _Captain, look at this! Captain, can we spar? Captain, let’s go shopping! Captain!_ But when the moon arrives you remember. About the box in your chest and the key you’ve thrown to the earthly realm. It’s a bit hard to breathe when the air in your room become this heavy, but you’ll manage somehow. You always do.

At some point it got bigger. You don’t know when or how or if it continuously grew and you just didn’t notice until it was scratching at your throat, but it’s too big now. People are starting to see through the smiles that used to be genuine, because now you don’t forget about the night. Now it’s your _job_ to keep the night out of view during the day. They think you're under the weather and tells you to go rest. You try to smile and shake your head, they’re nice and sweet and kind and worried but you can’t tell them that the thought of staying in your room makes your hands shake. They don’t feel it, but you do. The way moving in the room with the locked box feels like drowning.

Still, you accept their advice and take it easy for a while, no missions, no training, sit and be cared for. You thought it would help, but the nicer they are the more restless you feel. At this point you don’t know what’s wrong nor how well your act is holding up. What you _do_ know is that they are growing increasingly worried for each passing day and that the thing is tearing and tearing and tearing and TEARING at your insides. One day it slips through. It’s when you convinced them that helping to buy groceries would do you good, a change of environment from the Grandcypher's safe deck, but you need that. When they agree you feel light for the first time in a week. Somehow it's easy to forget when you have a list in your hand.

It pummels down quickly. You’re in the middle of laughing at a joke when a family of three pass you by. Mother, father and daughter with a teddy-bear clutched in her hands. They’re smiling and talking about what to eat for dinner and that’s all you hear before the treasure box starts unlocking itself. _No, no_ , you whisper to the box and struggle to hold it together. You try to fake it, try to put on a show and laugh it away. _Captain?_ You’re not doing a very good job.

You cry.

In the middle of the street with a hand over your eyes as if that’ll stop people from noticing the tremors running through your body. Someone takes your free hand and pulls you close, hushes and says it’ll be all right. It’s warm and gentle and it makes you cry harder, and when they start leading you somewhere less busy you don’t find the strength to object. You sit with arms securely around you and a hand stroking your hair, holding you until the tears stop and your breathing evens out. Your eyes are red and puffy and your throat sore when they ask if you're feeling better. You nod. The thing in your chest is gone.

You think you’re carried back, hands secured under your knees and back and your head on their shoulder. With exhaustion filling every part of your body it's a bit hard to tell. You stir when people start yelling, settling when it’s reduced to whispers after quick, quiet explanations. You don't remember much after that, and if it hadn't been for the person sleeping on a chair next to your bed when you wake up you would have thought that the warmth you felt all night was nothing but a dream. It changed a few times, but it was always there. Loving, soft voices or turning pages in a book or fixing your blanket or singing. It was all a bit embarrassing when you thought about it, but it wasn’t a bad feeling.

You are yelled at the day after. For piling things up. For keeping it to yourself. For putting yourself in danger. For every worry they had when caring for you. You are yelled at and it _feels good_. You apologize when you smile too wide, hears the annoyed groan but sees the smile they wear too. When you try to leave the room you’re clung to and not left alone until everyone has had a chance to talk to you or hug you and the red color never really leaves your face. At dinner you decide to do a formal apology. When you rise the whole room goes silent and you blush and stammer, flustered over the not uncommon, but sudden, attention and realization that you are about to confess to everything you had tried to keep away. You tell them anyway. Apologize and promise to never let it happen again, to become a better captain. When you're finished they turn loud again, protesting that you should stop worrying about _captain this and captain that_ , it's **you** they follow. For a moment you try to collect your thoughts and refute but they refuse it. _Rely on us more_ , they laugh and smile and ruffle your hair and doesn't seem to mind the mishaps.

You almost cry again.

**Author's Note:**

> not necessarily the captain I usually work with but a captain that's fun to explore regardless......... very much appreciate the mentor relationship captain has with katalina and how much the crew cares for captain ( especially the older members ) aa....
> 
> something that was supposed to be headcanon talk but somehow ended up into this ? 2nd pov is fun... v selfindulgent too i luv being selfindulgent i wanna make a complete drabble work w selfindulgent (relation)ship stuff ?!?!?!? surely everyone is craving the same captainships as me ?!??!?!? (no)
> 
> either way, its summer lets sit down and catch up in the tag receptionist emoji


End file.
